


There is passion

by MayaAodhan



Category: Star Wars: Rebels
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-11-13
Updated: 2015-01-10
Packaged: 2018-02-25 05:27:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 7,288
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2610173
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MayaAodhan/pseuds/MayaAodhan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A mission went bad. Kanan feels it is his fault.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Kanan scrubbed his hands down his face. He leaned against the bulkhead outside the room Ezra shared with Zeb.  
“It’s fine, Kanan. The kid is fine.”  
Hera’s voice was warm, comforting, and he dropped his hands to rest by his sides, his fingertips brushing the chilled metal.  
“It nearly wasn’t.” Kanan swallowed the lump in his throat that made speaking difficult.  
Hera stepped out of Ezra’s room and closed the door behind her. In the half light of the corridor, her emerald green eyes were luminous.  
“Love, you need to give yourself a break.” Hera rose her hand and curved it over his cheek.  
Kanan broke her gaze. He couldn’t deal with the sympathy there. He didn’t deserve it. He stared down at the battered decking. At the splatters of blood, Ezra’s blood that marred the normally clean surface.  
“I will track down that bastard and …” Kanan struggled to finish the sentence.  
Hera bent slightly, seeking his gaze again, her hand dropping from his cheek to his chest. “Be calm, Jedi.” Her voice mesmerised him. “Think clearly.”  
Kanan closed his eyes, shuttering against those brilliant green eyes, the intelligence and friendship within them. He took a breath, feeling the press of her talented fingers over his heart. The talented hands that had flown Ghost out of all the trouble he had gotten them into, more times than he could count.  
He was a Jedi.  
 _There is no emotion, there is peace._  
Ezra force choked by the Inquisitor.  
 _There is no ignorance, there is knowledge._  
Kanan had gone in blindly. Anger had clouded his judgement.  
 _There is no passion, there is serenity._  
Ezra’s legs had kicked the air, his eyes turning up into his head as he struggled to find his next breath.  
 _There is no chaos, there is harmony._  
The hum of his lightsaber as he had ignited it. The snarl of rage that had been lava in his veins. The struggle to find his centre, to find the Force.  
 _There is no death, there is the Force._  
It was not Ezra’s day to die. It was NOT.  
Hera had saved them. He had lost sight of his centre. He had attacked the Inquisitor in anger. Anger.  
 _There is no emotion, there is peace._  
Sabine had warned them it was a trap. He had wanted to take down Callas. The man who had been hunting them for months. He hadn’t expected the Sith.  
 _There is no passion, there is serenity._  
Hera bringing the Ghost in. For a moment he had been annoyed at the interruption. Then he had seen Ezra go limp and for a sickening moment, he thought he was dead.  
 _There is no chaos, there is harmony._  
Sabine’s explosion had given them the needed time to evacuate the ship. Zeb had grabbed Ezra and they had made it onto the Ghost.  
 _There is no emotion, there is peace._  
When the stars slid past as Hera hit hyperspace, tears had stung in his eyes and his heart had been a stone in his chest. His mourning was mostly for the kid. He had failed him. But just a little was for himself. He had forsaken every part of the Jedi Code.  
 _There is no death, there is the Force._  
The kid wasn’t dead. Hera had made him comfortable, but Kanan knew he had failed his padawan today.  
“Stop thinking so hard, Jedi.” Her lips touched his cheek and he opened his eyes. Blue clashed with green.  
 _There is no passion, there is harmony._  
She took his hand and lifted it in her own.  
“Your thinking makes my heart ache.” Her voice was a soft caress.  
 _There is no passion._  
“He’s family, Hera.”  
Hera wrapped her arms around his chest and brought him toward her warmth. He enveloped her gratefully, the heavy weight of her lekku resting on his forearms. She smelled of engine grease, and the skies, and of her.  
 _There is no passion._  
“I know.” Her voice was muffled against his neck. The wash of her breath caused a shiver to slide down his spine. “And he is still alive. He will see much worse in days to come, Kanan.” She looked up at him, her gaze serious. “You will teach him to be strong. To protect the crew the way you protect us. Protect me.”  
 _There is no damn passion._  
His arms tightened involuntarily around her. She made a small sound and he took a breath.  
“You’re right.” He said. And let go. He shook his head. “You’re right.”  
She gave him that smile that made his knees go week. “I’m always right, Kanan. Best you remember that.”  
She stepped back and straightened her shoulders. “We will be coming out of jump soon. I should get back to it.”  
Kanan nodded. “Yeah. I will head to my quarters. Clean up.”  
Hera winked at him and headed off.  
Kanan rubbed his fingertips over his temple.  
It was getting harder. This lying to himself.  
 _There is passion_.


	2. Two

Ezra plucked at the edge of the bandage wrapping his leg. He scowled at it. "But I'm bored!" His voice was still croaky and he tried to clear it, rubbing his throat with his hand.

"Tough, kid." Sabine dumped the tray of food down on the footlocker Zeb had dragged across the floor to serve as a table.

"Yeah." The gruff voice of the Lasat crewman rumbled from his bunk. "Did the crime, do the time."

"But I'm fine!" Ezra protested, getting ready to toss back the blanket and stand up. He stuck one foot over the side of the bed. And promptly went white.

With uncharacteristic gentleness, Sabine pushed him back down. "Hera says you gotta rest, Ezra."

Ezra's eyes closed, his face pinched with pain. "Where's Kanan?" he asked with a small voice.

Sabine glanced across at Zeb, whose glowing green eyes watched the scene with concern he wouldn't let the boy see. Zeb levered himself off his bunk and hit the deck with a soft thud.

"He's looked in on you a couple times, but you have been asleep, y'know." Zeb's mouth drew down. Sabine looked at him severely. He shrugged. "I will let him know you are awake. He's working a mission right now. But as soon as he gets a chance."

Ezra turned his back on Sabine and Zeb, pulling his blanket up high. "Don't bother. I'm fine."

Sabine propped her hands on her hips, the corner of her mouth tucked in in disapproval. Zeb jerked his head toward the door. She nodded.

"See you soon, Ezra. Don't forget to eat. And get some rest, we need you fit for the next mission," she said to the boy, and merely got a grunt in return.


	3. Three

Hera stood in the doorway to the bridge with her arms folded. She leaned on the frame of the door, and studied Kanan for a moment.

He was slouched in the co-pilots chair, one booted foot on the console while he stared moodily out into the black. His fingers tapped a staccato on his thigh, while the other hand splayed on his flat belly.

"I know you're there," Kanan said, his voice sharp in the quiet.

Hera straightened and entered, her expression serene. She took up her pilot's seat, turning slightly to watch him. "Why haven't you been to see him? He's been awake for days."

"I've been busy." Kanan's fingers stilled.

Hera frowned her disappointment. "Well, that's a big fat lie. You don't want to see him."

Kanan's chin dropped to his chest and he sighed. "No. It's not that."

"What is it, Kanan?" Hera leaned forward and touched his arm.

He folded his hand over hers.

"The guilt is eating at me."

Hera stayed silent.

He glanced up. "What?"

"I didn't say anything." Hera gave a half shrug.

"You didn't say anything loud and clear."

"Oh for goodness sake." Hera leaned back, her hand sliding out from his.

Kanan finally looked at her. "Hera…"

Hera stood up. Moved toward him, cupped both palms over his face. Kanan went very still.

"You are one of my dearest friends, Kanan. But I swear, if you don't get over yourself and go see your Padawan, I will space you myself." She kissed him on the brow, and backed up a step.

Kanan stood up slowly, towering over the lofty twi'lek. She looked up at him, a faint smile curving her lips. She put her hand on his arm and pushed him toward the door. "Go," she said. "Don't be a coward."

He jerked at that, a sour expression on his lean face. "Coward?"

"Yes. Too scared to go and talk to a boy. Your Padawan. Face down Imps and bucket heads, no problem. But one boy…?" Hera gestured vaguely with her hands. "…The big tough Jedi goes to pieces."

Kanan stepped forward, crowding her space. "I'm not a coward." His voice echoed with hurt.

Hera stood her ground. "Oh honey, I'm sorry, but you are, a little. I just wanted you to go see Ezra. That poor boy needs you to see him. He's hurting, not just physically. He needs to know you believe in him."

"Of course I do," Kanan protested, shoving his hands into the pockets of his trousers, his fists bunched.

"You have just stopped believing in yourself, haven't you?" Hera touched his chest.

Kanan remained silent, his eyes downcast.

"Just like that?" Hera touched his chin, beckoning him to look up. "Oh, love, you Jedi are just as easily broken as the rest of us…" Her thumb traced his jaw in an unthinking caress. "…Aren't you?"

Kanan captured her hand with his, and held it close. "Hera…"

She looked at him with curiosity. "What?"

Kanan took a breath. And let it out.

"Nothing," he said, giving his head a small shake.

"Go see Ezra," Hera said gently. "Go."

"Yeah." Kanan reluctantly released her hand.

"And smile, a little. You don't want to scare the boy." Hera's eyes crinkled with amusement.

Kanan gave her a crooked grin. "Enough moping?"

"Enough moping, Jedi."


	4. Four

"Hey kid." Kanan stood in the doorway of the room.

Ezra was sitting up, the tray of food on his lap. He glanced up at Kanan, his large blue eyes sparking with hurt and then shuttering before he lowered them to stare at the almost untouched food before him. Kanan winced.

"How're you feeling?" Kanan tried again.

"Fine." Ezra stabbed a piece of fruit with his fork. He shoved it in his mouth and chewed.

"Yeah? That's good." Kanan waited awkwardly. What was it about this kid that left him off guard? He paused. "Have you been practicing the meditation exercises I gave you?"

Ezra shrugged, resting his fork down on the tray. "Haven't felt much like it."

Kanan stepped into the room, concern for the boy writ in his face. "Ezra, you might be wounded, but you can't forsake your training."

Ezra's eyes were ablaze with anger when he looked up. "I'm  _your_  Padawan. I thought you were supposed to be training me?"

Kanan folded his arms across his chest and stared down at the flooring. "Yeah. I am."

"Zeb told me that you came in to look in on me when I was asleep. But I could tell he was lying. He doesn't think I know, but I know." Ezra shoved the tray onto the footlocker. A knife tipped off and clattered to the ground with a resounding clang. "You never came."

"No. I didn't." Kanan met Ezra's gaze steadily. "And that was wrong."

Ezra's voice was choked as he demanded, "Why?"

Kanan took a slow, centring breath. "I was an idiot."

Ezra frowned. "What?"

"I was an idiot. Now for not looking in on you. And back two days ago when I rushed into that trap." Kanan lowered himself to sit on Zeb's bed. He leaned his elbows on his knees, his hands clasped in front of him. But he still looked steadily at his padawan.

"But we had to go in. Those refugees. Kallus had them."

"He didn't." Kanan shook his head wearily. "It was a trap. I didn't listen when Sabine said she couldn't pick up any extra heat signatures."

Ezra frowned in confusion. "But what happened? One second I was crawling through that vent shaft, the next I was yanked through the wall of it. It hurt. Zeb told me that's how I got hurt. The metal. When the Inquisitor ripped the panel off, I got scratched."

Kanan rose a dark brow. "Bit more than a scratch."

Ezra paused, a faint smile on his lips. "You think I will have a scar? That would be pretty cool."

"Yeah, kid." Kana gave him a small smile in return. "One that even Sabine might be impressed by."

A faint flush rose high on the teen's face. He cleared his throat. "Anyway. What happened?"

Kanan rubbed the back of his neck. "When you got yanked through the wall, your comms went down. I sent Sabine back to cover our exit. Zeb and I headed forward. Kallus sent bucket heads after us, but we took care of them. When we got to your location, the Inquisitor had you in a force choke, just waiting for me."

Ezra's mouth twisted. "Yeah. That bit was bad. Couldn't breathe. Stuff went pretty black."

Kanan squeezed his hands into fists. "We clashed. The Inquisitor and I. Enough for him to let you go. Zeb grabbed you and got you out."

"Zeb did?" Ezra sounded surprised at that.

"Yeah. He was damn worried. We all were."

Ezra scowled thoughtfully. "But I don't get why…" His voice trailed off.

"Why what?"

"Why you were all…moody…and stuff." Ezra gestured vaguely. "I heard Sabine talking with Hera. They figured I was asleep."

"It was my fault, kid." Kanan sighed. "I didn't listen to Hera or Sabine. I didn't even really care about the refugees. I wanted to confront the Inquisitor. I wanted to stop Kallus. My own ego. My own hubris nearly got you killed."

Ezra leaned back on his pillows, his hands linked in his lap. He stared at his interlocked fingers.

"That's why I was all moody…and stuff." Kanan rose to his feet.

"Huh." Ezra stared up at Kanan. "I thought you were disappointed that I got caught. That we couldn't get the refugees because you had to come save me."

"Didn't the others tell you that there were no refugees?"

"I guess they figured I already knew…" Ezra paused. Frowned. Glanced back up. "So you aren't disappointed in me?"

"What?" Kanan's eyes widened. "No. Of course not."

Ezra took a deep breath and blew it out. "That's a relief."

Kanan rubbed the back of his neck. "I'm sorry, Ezra. Really."

Ezra gave him a beaming smile. "No worries. I'm good." His nose wrinkled. "Do I have to practice meditation?"

Kanan released a breath he wasn't even aware he was holding. The kid left him completely off balance. "Yeah. You do."

Ezra gestured vaguely. "But I can't kneel."

"You don't need to kneel, Ezra." Kanan lowered himself to the ground though. He rested his hands on his thighs and closed his eyes. "Just close your eyes. Listen to my voice."

Ezra huffed an impatient sigh. Kanan opened an eye to check. The kid had his eyes squeezed shut.

Kanan smiled.

* * *

Kanan closed the door to Ezra's room behind him and jumped a little when he saw Hera standing just down the corridor a little, leaning against the wall, her arms crossed.

"Yeah, you were right." He stuffed his hands in the pockets of his trousers. "I should have talked to him ages ago."

Hera straightened and approached him, one eyebrow cocked in amusement.

Kanan hunched his shoulders. "I know. You just love being right. Chalk one up on your column this time."

Hera stopped in front of him, tiptoed and slanted her lips across his. His shoulders lowered, the tension in them seeping out. His hands slipped out of his pockets and hung uselessly for a moment, before reaching out. When she stepped back, his entire body hummed with awareness and heat. He stared at her, wordlessly.

She quirked a small smile at him and headed off down toward the bridge. She glanced back over her shoulder once before closing the door behind her.

He swiped a hand down his face. Carabas.


	5. Five

Kanan took a slow breath and clenched his fists. Kneeling on the floor of his cabin, he was trying to centre himself through mediation. He felt like a damn padawan learning how to focus for the first time. Thoughts, sensations, demanding lips slanted across his, her strong, slender hand curved over his cheek were all distracting him.  
He released the tension in his hands, smoothing his sweating palms down his thighs. He closed his eyes again, shutting out the spartan grey of his room. The hum of the Ghost soothed him, its familiar sounds quieting his mind. And unbidden, the image of Ezra dangling in the force grip of the Inquisitor filled his mind. The sound of weapons firing in the corridor was loud. He frowned. No. No that was not where to begin. He had to find his focus again.

"Kanan…" Hera's voice trailed off, she stared at him, her gaze expressing her uncertainty.  
"You think we shouldn't go?" Kanan crossed his arms over his chest.  
"Of course we should go," Hera said, worrying her lip. "But we shouldn't rush in. It seems…easy. We never do easy."  
"It's a lone transport. No big weapons that the Ghost can't take a hit from," Kanan said. "And we can't leave those refugees to the Imps."  
"No. I know!" Hera replied impatiently. "But I just have a bad feeling…" She tucked a fist against her gut. "…Here. You have trusted my feelings before, Kanan." Hera sat down in her chair, turning her back to him, refusing to meet his gaze. "Sabine is running a scan on the ship as soon as we enter its location. You won't have much time to decide whether you want to continue with the mission."  
"I will take Ezra, Zeb and Sabine in the Phantom. Once I know where the refugees are, I will contact you. You fly in and save the day. Easy." Kanan tried to lighten the mood. To bring a smile to her face. She looked at him doubtfully.  
"Just be careful, Kanan." Hera's voice was cool, as her fingers flew across the navigation interface.  
"Hey. I'm always careful." Kanan brushed off her concern lightly. "Don't worry so much."  
"I wouldn't worry so much if you didn't always give me something to worry about."  
"Hera…"  
"Get going, Kanan. This master plan of yours needs work." Hera activated the ship's intercom. "Sabine, you and Chopper ready with the scanner?"  
"Yep. Good to go. Ezra and Zeb are with me."  
"Kanan wants them at the Phantom. Let them know."  
"You got it."  
Kanan stood silently for a little longer, a question lingering on his lips.  
"Get going, Kanan." Her voice was softer now. "They are waiting for you."

The ship was oddly quiet. They had landed with barely a shudder. Sabine's scan had shown a half dozen Imps throughout the ship, and a dozen more in a single room in the bowels of the ship. Ezra had entered the ducts soon after they accessed the hangar door.  
Kanan felt uneasy. This still wasn't right.  
Zeb grimaced and shrugged at his questioning glance.  
They came to a corridor. Kanan glanced around, then looked back at Zeb, holding up two fingers, tapping his head to indicate Stormtrooper, the bucketheads. Zeb hefted his weapon and grinned. Kanan nodded.  
They leapt out, Kanan flinging one of the bucketheads into the bulkhead. Zeb thundered down the corridor at the other one who got off only a single shot before his weapon was wrenched form his grasp and he was rendered unconscious by a swing of Zeb's Bo-rifle.  
Zeb swiftly bound and yanked the bodies into an empty room, closing the door. He nodded at Kanan.  
Kanan touched his earpiece. "Ezra? What can you see?"  
Ezra's reply was muffled and tinny. "The room is just ahead. Gimme a couple minutes."  
Kanan jerked his head down the corridor. Zeb followed him.  
"Kanan?" Sabine's voice was loud in his ear.  
"Yeah?"  
"It's real quiet there. Looks like they haven't detected your entry. But it's weird. There is a room ahead I can't get a proper read on. Might be nothing, but I don't know…"  
"We can handle it." Kanan glanced around the next corner. The corridor was empty.

The fit was tight. Wouldn't be much longer and he couldn't be sneaking around ships tucked safely into air vents. Ezra scowled. Getting older was stupid. He could see the grating up ahead that he was headed for.  
Ezra, heroic rescuer - they would claim. Ezra, brave padawan. Yeah. He liked that. That was pretty cool. He grinned to himself. Long way from Lothal, living in that tower, that's for sure. He might have had more room, but he would never had got to meet a Jedi. And Sabine. His smile broadened. Yeah. He liked Sabine.  
He elbowed his way forward, pushing his pack in front of him in case he had to use his tools. This place really was squishy. He grunted as he drew level with the grate, peering his way into the room.  
His eyes widened with shock.  
He barely got time to activate his comm and warn the others before the grate tore from it's mountings and he was yanked through the portal. A slice of pain shot through his body as something sharp tore his thigh on the way through. He couldn't breathe. Something clutched his throat. He tried to scrabble at whatever it was, suspended midair.  
A secondary concern was the warmth that was flowing from the wound in his leg, dripping in bright, bright splatters of red on the ground.

"It's a trap!"  
The howl from Ezra came through all their comms.  
"Karabas," Zeb snarled.  
"Ezra! Where are you?" Kanan said fiercely. "Ezra?"  
Nothing.  
"Come on." Kanan broke into a run, not caring about silent entrances now. It was too late.

The door opened into the shielded room between them and Ezra. Half a dozen bucket heads had their weapons aimed at them from behind cover and in the middle - Kallus. He grinned at them, his austere features creasing with delight that they had played directly into his hands.  
He said simply. "The Sith wants the Jedi alive. Kill the Lasat."  
The troopers opened fire at his command. The room echoed with the sound of combat. Kanan withdrew his lightsaber.  
"We have to get past," he said with gritted teeth, focusing merely on defending them both against the bolt blasts.  
"Get me to the bucket heads, Kanan. I can do the rest," Zeb said grimly. "You gotta rescue the kid."  
Kanan's lightsaber whipped and whirled as they advanced across the room, approaching the makeshift cover of the troopers - overturned desks and crates layered up. The open door was just beyond them.  
Zeb grinned widely at the white armoured foe and leapt into combat. The troopers were ill prepared for the hand to hand combat the Lasat specialised in. His Bo-rifle spun, thumping skulls, firing into chests. He saw Kanan slice a couple up with his blade, force leap over and heading for the door. He was helpless though, to stop Kallus giving chase.

Kanan ran down the corridor, sprinting from cover to cover where it was available. He had extinguished his blade, and was now firing behind him, using the force to get a sense of where his pursuer was.  
"The Inquisitor has the boy, Jedi." Kallus' voice echoed up the metallic corridor. "And your retreat is cut off. My men will deal with the Lasat. You would be better off surrendering now."  
Kanan jammed himself behind a metal pylon. He could see the door to the hold further down.  
"Kanan….help…." Ezra's voice was a gasping whisper. It wasn't from the comms.  
"I'm coming, kid." Kanan muttered.  
A handful of blaster bolts peppered his position. He flinched back.  
"Just kick out your lightsaber, Jedi. Lay down your gun. Put your hands behind your head." Kallus instructed. "It's your only choice."  
Kanan bowed his head. He had to make a choice. Calm. Centred.  
He made it.


	6. Six

Kallus watched the pistol spin across the floor. It came to a rest halfway between them. It was followed by the harmless looking tube of the Jedi's lightsaber. He smiled in satisfaction. He would add that to his collection. A second, maybe two, then the tall, lean figure of the young Jedi stepped out.

Kallus studied the man's face thoughtfully, keeping his pistol steady. He didn't trust a Jedi. But Jarrus had his hands up behind his head as demanded. There was anger in the depths of those eyes. A simmering heat that made him pause, just for a moment.

"Kneel," Kallus said. "Slowly."

The Jedi watched him silently, then lowered to his knees, his hands still fixed behind his head.

Kallus stepped forward, his finger just dancing on the edge of the trigger. He bent slowly and picked up the Jedi's pistol. It was making him uneasy the way Jarrus was watching him.

"Sensible choice," Kallus said, tucking the pistol into his belt.

"You are going to end this day in a lot of pain," the Jedi said softly.

Kallus paused, and rose an imperious brow. "Really? And who is going to do that? The kid? The Lasat? You?" he scoffed. "Hardly."

The Jedi leaned forward, dropping his voice barely above a whisper. Kallus had to strain to hear him. "You are going to regret this."

"What? Regret nipping this pointless little rebellion of yours in the bud?" Kallus snarled. "I don't think so."

The Jedi shook his head. "We aren't a rebellion. We are just trying to make some money in this slow economy. You know…the economy that the Imps have a stranglehold on."

"What are you doing here then?" Kallus narrowed his eyes.

The Jedi shrugged. "Oh, you know…waiting long enough for Zeb to deal with the bucket heads so he can sneak up behind you." His glance ticked over Kallus' shoulder.

Kallus hesitated, was this a ruse? , and turned his head in time to see the towering purple Lasat grinning horribly at him. He barely caught the blow being delivered by the Bo-rifle on the edge of his pistol, turning it aside.

Kanan leapt to his feet, pulled his lightsaber toward him. He had to do without his pistol. That was time he couldn't waste. Anger snarled through his veins as he paused, watching Zeb and the Imp Agent engage in brutal hand to hand combat.

He would like nothing more than to end the Imp, but he had his Padawan to save.

"You good, Zeb?"

"Go," Zeb grunted. "Save the kid."

Kanan hesitated again. And turned to go. Ezra was his priority.

"Spectre Five, you there?" Kanan shouted into his earpiece for Sabine as he raced down the corridor toward the door he needed.

"Yeah, Spectre One. What's the go? I can hear shots." Sabine's voice was tense.

"We need extraction in five. It's a bust. There are no refugees. I'm getting Spectre Six. Coordinate with Spectre Two for the pickup. We will probably have company on the way out. And not the good kind."

"You got it, Spectre One. Leave it to me. Spectre Five out."

The door opened and Kanan dove through the open portal, and came up under a hail of fire. He barely had time to breathe. The bucket heads were taking pot shots at him as he headed up the corridor, his lightsaber whirling in defence. He force pushed two of them into the ceiling, letting gravity take it's toll when he shut it off. They landed with pained grunts. Another one fell under a blow as his blade melted the plasteel of the armour, his weapon falling from nerveless fingers.

A sharp, hot pain seared his arm and he took another shot to the pauldron on his shoulder. He lifted the crate two bucket heads were cowering behind and slammed it down on top of them. Their cries of pain did nothing to shake his focus.

Two more crouched behind a side turned table, no doubt yanked from a nearby room for cover. He pushed it, the force flowing through his body as the table scooped up the bucket heads and slammed them into the bulkhead, the metal legs crumpling. He flicked his hand and the table slid sideways. They crashed into a room. Kanan slammed his hand down on the controls and shoved his lightsaber into the mechanism after the door shut. He could hear their shouts of anger and was pleased.

One more. The bucket head was firing fiercely at him, slowly backing up, keeping up a hail of fire that frustrated Kanan's attempts to advance. Kanan crouched behind a crate. He took a breath, pictured the stormtrooper in his mind, and rising up on one knee, threw his lightsaber in a whirling arc toward the hapless soldier. It could him high in the chest, knocking him back and down. Kanan caught the lightsaber on it's return path and stood breathing hard for a moment. The door at the other end of the corridor was his target.

He stalked forward, limping just a little. One of the bastards had him him in the leg and it stung like a bitch.

Using the force, he yanked the door off it's mountings. It crumpled beneath the force of his rage.

"I could feel your anger from here." The smooth tones of the Inquisitor filled the room, his long, rangy figure standing in the centre.

Kanan entered, his lightsaber humming comfortingly in his hand. He swallowed the sudden lump in his throat. Ezra was dangling in the force grip, his movements little more than a tiny gizka struggling in the mouth of a fyrnock. The Inquisitor had his lightsaber in hand.

"Let my padawan go," Kanan said softly.

"Oh. I don't think so."

Kanan glanced again at Ezra. The boy's eyes were full of pain and panic. And he noted for the first time the blood that was pooling at his feet. A steady drip, drip, drip that was weakening Ezra's will to fight.

"I'm here, Ezra," Kanan said. "I won't let anything happen to you."

He had been around Ezra's age when he had watched his Jedi Master die. A kid more innocent than Ezra had been. When Order 66 had come down, it had been brutal and stunning and it had carved a piece out of his soul to feel the agony that had sharded through the Force that day. He never wanted to feel that again.

But watching Ezra dangle there, helpless and dying, he knew he could not let it be this day.

He turned his lightsaber in a slow arc, trying to ease the agony in his wounded shoulder.

"Let my padawan go."

The Inquisitor smiled, the twist of his mouth a humourless rictus. "So easy. You have walked into your end at my hands. My master will be interested in the boy though. He shows such potential for darkness."

Kanan's hands knuckled white on his lightsaber. "Let…my…padawan…go." His calm was slipping.

"And I can sense it in you. You must have been but a child when we saw to the end of the Jedi Order." The Inquistor ignited his lightsaber. "A child who knows little more than the rudiments of your master's training." He paused, and flicked his fingers. Ezra crumpled to the ground, slipping in his own blood and lying twisted and staring sightlessly at the ceiling.

"No!" Kanan snarled and leapt at the Inquistor.


	7. Seven

Kanan struggled to catch the blows raining down on him, punctuated by the throaty tones of the Inquisitor haranguing him at every step.

"My master would have loved the darkness in your boy there," he spoke in sibilant tones. "Moulded him. Shaped him into a servant of the Dark Side."

Kanan gritted his teeth, barely beating aside a sharp flick at his chest. He stumbled back a step.

"You are weak." The Inquisitor beat at Kanan's defences with a burst of force push. Kanan struggled to keep his feet. "You are not a Jedi, are you? Still a padawan. Barely that." His voice was drily amused, as though Kanan was little more than an irritant.

Kanan let out the breath he was holding. The Inquisitor was right. He wasn't a Jedi. He glanced at Ezra, crumpled on the floor, blood oozing still from the wound. But the kid needed him. If not him, then who?

"That's just a title." Kanan gritted his teeth, taking the force of a blow on his saber. "A title that you and your kind tried to kill."

The Inquisitor laughed, the sound mocking. "Tried? I think we succeeded, don't you?"

A flurry of blows between the two. Kanan was barely holding it together. He was almost wholly defensive, the teachings of his master only a dim memory. The force was surging through him though. Not yet.

"I'm still…alive…" Kanan grunted.

"Scurrying away from the might of the Sith like little cockroaches."

"Cockroaches are hard to kill."

"One good stomp usually does the trick."

"Keep stomping, Inquisitor. Keep stomping." Kanan flared his force, lifting the Inquisitor off his feet. He sensed, rather than saw, the door opening. He had to hope it was Zeb. A flash of purple confirmed it as Zeb headed for Ezra.

"Is he alive?" Kanan gasped, holding the Inquisitor off his feet with sustained effort.

"Just." Zeb was gathering the kid up with the gentlest of movements. Ezra was limp in his arms. "Spectre Two is inbound."

"Okay." Kanan turned back to the snarling Sith.

Zeb took off, rifle on his back, pistol in hand with Ezra held easily over his shoulder.

"You will die cursing the Jedi." The Inquisitor called to Kanan, trying to find purchase on the ceiling. "Cursing the fact you have that blood oozing in your veins."

"That doesn't sound so scary coming from a bug floating on the ceiling," Kanan tried to keep his voice nonchalant, but couldn't stop the sweat beading on his brow. This was taking more effort to sustain than he thought. The Sith was powerful.

"You have to let go sometime…Padawan." The taunt plucked his pride.

"Yeah." Kanan grinned. "I do."

"I will hunt you and that boy down. I will crush his soul under my boot heel and make him lick the toes. He will serve my Master and I. And I will use him to crush your little rebellion."

Anger licked along Kanan's patience and his focus wobbled.

"That's it." The Inquisitor gave a snake-like smile. "You can do nothing to stop me."

Kanan flung his power sideways, shoving the Inquisitor into the wall. The Inquisitor struck hard and landed on his knees. His lightsaber fell with a clatter. Kanan turned to go. He had to. He would lose.

"I will kill you. Kill that furry beast. Turn that Mandolorian into a smear on the pavement. And crush the life out of that pretty little twi'lek."

Kanan stilled.

"Ahhh." The Inquisitor's lightsaber hummed to life, the dual blade turning his pale skin a malignant red. "Another weakness. The twi'lek." He took several steps toward Kanan.

"Stay…away from them." Kanan's voice was hoarse.

"No. I don't think I will. She will look so lovely as the life fades from those big green eyes."

Kanan roared his anger and leapt toward the Pau'un. A small part of his brain was saying softly that it was only talk, meant to keep him there. Meant to distract. But he couldn't hear it over the scream of rage that shattered his self control.

His abilities with the lightsaber were rough, untrained for a decade. But he had other, more brutal skills, honed in the dives of the galaxy, fighting for his life in back alleys and spaceports where credits and food were more valued than life. His hybrid style seemed to unseat the Inquisitor a little.

For a little while, he had the Sith on the back foot. For a little while.

But the agent was better trained. And Kanan didn't have back up.

The lightsabers clashed, the staticky sound of their joining loud in the room. Kanan's elbow connected with the Inquisitors jaw and they stumbled apart. In the dim recesses of his mind, Kanan heard her.

"Kanan, where are you?"

Her voice was a whisper of calm over the rough edges of his anger.

"Kanan, come on. Answer me."

Kanan eyed the Inquisitor, who was circling him with cat-like grace, swiping the back of his long, elegant fingers over his jaw.

"Kanan, damn it." Hera's voice was edged with frustration and fear. "I need you. Come on. Zeb can't get through. He is under fire. Come on."

Kanan moved his lightsaber in a thoughtful arc. This Sith would never leave them in peace. But he had to run. He had to help his family. He glanced up at the ceiling, large panels. He took a breath, dug deep and pulled with all his might. The ceiling smashed down on the Inquisitor.

"Spectre Two. I'm coming." He said simply.


	8. Chater Eight

Kanan opened his eyes. He felt a little calmer as he stared down at his hands. They were unclenched, spread evenly on his thighs. He stared at the knuckles, scarred and calloused from years of drudge work.

  
The Inquisitor wasn’t wrong. He wasn’t a Jedi. He was just some guy with a lightsaber and a handful of magic tricks. He had been Ezra’s age when his formal training had been cut short by betrayal, by the death of his master. Kanan rose and sat down on the edge of his bed. He yanked open the drawer build into its base and took out the holorecording. He activated it and watched Master Obi Wan give his warning to the Order. He bowed his head, squeezing his eyes shut.

  
How was he equipped to teach Ezra? He wasn’t a Master. He wasn’t even a Jedi. He was just a Padawan. With a Padawan’s understandings of the force. What if he taught the kid wrong? Gave the wrong answer to a question?

  
And what about Hera? From moment one meeting her had been an adventure. A tingling of the senses that hadn’t let up since. The instant spark of attraction he had felt, had only deepened into…. Into what? It wasn’t love. He couldn’t do love. That was impossible, even if he weren’t a Jedi. Even if there weren’t a Jedi Order to enforce the rules. Sure, he had sought female companionship once every so often. But Hera was different. Hera was more.

  
The door of his room swished open. He wanted to groan. There was some cosmic joke being played on him.

  
Her hand curved over his shoulder, the bed sinking a little under her bodyweight.

  
“I bet I can guess what you are thinking.” Her voice was soft.

  
Kanan opened his eyes and turned his head meet her gaze. Her expression was serious. “Ezra?” He asked.

  
“He’s fine,” she said, and touched his chin lightly. “You have been meditating a long time. I was worried.”

  
Kanan caught her hand and held it in his own broad palm. Her hands were delicate. Long and slender and capable. “Had to get my head back on straight.”

  
“Always a first time,” she teased him gently.

  
He couldn’t help but smile. She could always make him smile.

  
“What are you worried about?” she asked him softly.

  
Kanan bowed his head again. “Not being good enough. Fast enough.”

  
Hera caught his chin and beckoned him to look at her. “What brought this on?”

  
“The Inquisitor. He has thoroughly kicked my ass each time we have met now. I don’t know that I can beat him, Hera. I don’t know that I can protect Ezra from him.” His throat grew tight, and he looked up, expecting to see disappointment in her eyes at his confession. She was always so competent, so brilliant. What he saw startled him. Amusement and affection. “What?”

  
“I have faith in you, Kanan.” Her voice wrapped him with it’s warmth. “Even if you have lost faith in yourself.”

  
Before he could think, before his brain told him it was a bad idea, he kissed her. She made a startled sound, too surprised to respond at first. Then her hands splayed over his chest, crept around his neck and threaded through his hair to draw him close.

  
His thoughts scattered like leaves in a strong wind. His senses were entirely taken by their kiss. When reality interfered with Chopper scuttling down the corridor, banging into a wall on his way, Kanan broke the kiss and stared down at Hera. They were sprawled on the bed, her arms wrapped around his torso. Her lips had that thoroughly kissed plumpness.

  
“Whew,” she said, a smile curving her lips. “You are pretty good at that.”

  
“Hera,” Kanan planted a hand beside her shoulder to push himself upright. “I’m sorry, I didn’t…”

  
Her hand smoothed over his forearm and slid up to cup his cheek. “Don’t you dare.” She curled her fingers in the soft fabric of his shirt and pulled him inexorably down. “I might have to try that again.” He didn’t resist.

  
Some time later, they lay side by side on his bunk. Their breath intermingled as they studied each other’s face with new eyes. Her fingertips traced the smooth skin of his lower back where his shirt had rucked up a little. His hand rested lightly on the curve of her hip, tracing the rough stitching of her flight pants.

  
“You have faith in me?” He asked finally.

Hera smiled at him, propping her head up on the palm of her hand. She removed her hand from his back and traced a fingertip over his lower lip. “You have earned it.” She kissed him lightly again. “The Inquisitor shook your confidence. But we will find a way. You have to keep training Ezra the best you can. You still know what it is to be a Jedi…in here.” She placed a hand on his chest, over his heart. “And I will be here for you.”

  
Kanan’s eyes stung. He had never had a family before. This felt a lot like what it was supposed to be. “I don’t deserve you.”  
Hera smiled. “No you don’t.” She wriggled out from his bunk and rose to her feet. She leaned over, kissed him again. “Once more the galaxy doesn’t make sense.”

  
Kanan rumbled a laugh.

  
“See you on deck in a little while. Sabine is making dinner.”

  
He wrinkled his nose.

  
Hera raised her hands helplessly. “I know, I know. I shouldn’t have insisted we all share chores equally. Maybe she won’t burn it?”  
As if to punctuate her comment, a distant smoke alarm sounded. Kanan closed his eyes. Hera face palmed.

  
“I had better go take care of the kids,” he drawled, the lilt of sarcasm on his tone.

  
“I had better go fly the ship.”

  
She headed for the door, her hand hovering over the sensor. Just before she pressed it, he caught her again, pressed her against the door and kissed her senseless. When he drew back, she looked up at him dazedly. “Wasn’t sure when I would get the chance again.” His smile was wicked.

  
Hera huffed a soft laugh, pressed the door sensor and stepped through. She glanced back at him over her shoulder. “Later.”


End file.
